A Little Piece of Heaven
by Verimol
Summary: AU. So that fateful night Alistair died at the hand of Sam, right? Wrong. And then everybody simply went on their merry way to the Apocalypse, right? Wrong. And Uriel was nothing more than a deceptive, untrustworthy traitor, right? Right.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own _almost_ nothing. The principal characters are surely not mine.**

**The title comes from the song "A Little Piece of Heaven" by Avenged Sevenfold.  
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**Prologue**

In the end _(or at the start, depending on how you look at it)_ there was a blast of light.

In the end _(or at the start, because this story is far from finished)_ thousands of years of torture, pain, pride, joy were about to be erased by a corrupted human who, incidentally, had just learnt how to use his power to kill _(and that was the final proof that Fate is indeed a bitch)_.

In the end a very powerful demon, struck by the realization that this was it, decided that if he was going to hell _(not literally, sadly, not literally) _he could as well drag a little piece of his enemy's heaven down with him.

In the end, something went terribly wrong.

And that was how everything started.

**Tell me what you think about it, okay? Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Before the story begins is it such a sin_

_For me to take what's mine until the end of time?_

_**A Little Piece of Heaven,**_** Avenged Sevenfold**

* * *

><p>Sam Winchester sighed in relief, easing away some of the tension that had gripped his muscles at the start of the fight. He looked down: a pile of smoking ashes was what was left of the demon and its meatsuit. Sam allowed him-self a small smile: he'd made it.<p>

Satisfaction was immediately shoved aside, though, as he turned around and saw his brother's body still sprawled on the floor, like a broken doll. Castiel, the angel, was kneeling beside him with a look of concern on his face.

In a second Sam was by his side, staring with silent horror at the wounds and bruises that marred Dean's skin; he couldn't shake away the feeling that Alistair had gone off the hook far too easily.

He scrambled to grab Dean's wrist, searching his pulse: he found it. He checked his breath: it hadn't stopped. A short, relieved chuckle escaped Sam's lips: Dean was _alive_. All was well in the world.

He turned to Castiel to ask if he knew where the closest hospital was, but the question died in his throat as he saw deep worry painted on the angel's face.

"Castiel?".

The angel didn't show to have heard him, keeping his eyes fixed on Dean.

"Castiel?" Sam repeated with a little more force.

Castiel emerged from his reverie and looked at him questioningly.

"Is something wrong? You're staring at Dean like... like he's... I don't know, I mean, that bastard surely gave him a hard time but Dean's tough, right? He's gonna be okay, right?".

Castiel avoided his eyes, concentrating once again on Dean's bruised face.

"_Right_?".

When Castiel finally met his eyes, he seemed lost and maybe a little scared; he regained control fast enough, though, and told Sam in his usual gruff voice: "I can't answer right away. I can tell that something happened, something bad, but I don't understand what exactly. I'm sorry".

He stayed silent for a moment, glazing into Sam's terrorized eyes and then, in a gentler tone added: "Come. Let's get him to a hospital".

* * *

><p><em>Resurrection, California<em>

Resurrection was a nice town. Its streets were wide and clean, carefully paved with dark-red tiles. There were no malls, only pretty little shops with well-cleaned windows and brightly coloured signs. There were no jointly-owned buildings, just two or three-floored houses.

Every house had its lawn. Every lawn was well-kept and furnished with a classical post box which bore, in neat black letters, the surname of one of the 1000 families that formed the well-knit community of Resurrection.

Everybody agreed that life was truly great in that little, almost forgotten town.

It was well past midnight: the streets were desert while all the denizens slept peacefully in their comfy beds.

Into a nice neat three-floored house, whose garden was covered with cheerful decorations, Mr and Mrs Daimon, the young couple who owned the place, were solidly asleep. They were curled together, dreaming of the little bundle of joy that was soon to be delivered; they didn't know the sex of the baby, the Daimons being one of those families who loved surprises, but they were praying for a girl. After all, they already did have a boy. He was a shy, lonely child, way too mature for his five years of life.

He was too sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the world. That is, right until he was engulfed in white light and started to toss and turn and kick and trash...

He stilled.

Alistair opened his eyes.

**Did you like it? Yes? No? Please let me know!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for keeping you waiting! Anyway, here's the new chapter: enjoy!**

With Sam's and Castiel's efforts combined, Dean made it to the hospital in record time; luck was on their side too: it was a quiet night, so Dean was immediately took in and taken care of. Sam even managed to come up with a fairly believable explanation of his brother's current condition, while Castiel's earnest blue eyes and solemn nods made the rest.

Doctors came and went as the hunter and the angel waited just outside the operating room, hunched on their chairs and lost in their own thoughts. Finally, half an hour later Doctor Hendrix – and Sam smiled thinking about how Dean would smile when he found out later, because there _was_ going to be a later – brought them some news. Dean was mostly okay: the beating was rough but nothing vital was harmed and the bruises were going yo heal soon enough.

Sam almost wept with relief and even Castiel looked a bit more optimistic. The Doctor accompanied them to Dean's room, explaining that he hadn't woken up yet but it was probably just a matter of hours; he left them there after making the promise to call him immediately should "the patient" regain consciousness.

Dean lay in the small hospital bed, surrounded by monitors and things that went beep in the night:Sam tentatively went to stand next to his brother's bed, taking notice of how pale Dean was, looking even paler because of the red angry bruises that marred his skin. Once again, Sam wished he'd had more time to make Alistair pay for what he'd done.

He was about to speak up his mind when Castiel interrupted his chain of thoughts.

"Something's wrong", the angel stated, his normally inexpressive tone tinted with worry.

It took awhile for his words to register - after all Sam was so sure that his brother was going to be al right that his brain was already planning the next move on the path leading to Lilith's destruction - but when they did they had on the younger Winchester the same effect of a slap.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked hurriedly, fearing the answer.

"Something's amiss" answered Castiel, who wasn't very good with clarifications.

Sam forced him-self to calm down, bearing in mind that he couldn't crack or his brother would follow soon enough; he had to be strong for both of them.

"Castiel" he said calmly "I think that if something was really amiss the doctors would have noticed".

"If what I think is right, I doubt that any doctor would have noticed" the angel answered roughly, not even looking at him; with great care, he touched two fingertips with Dean's front and closed his eyes. After a few seconds, his hand fell lifelessly by his side and when opened his eyes were full of something terribly akin to despair.

"It's gone" he murmured.

Sam was now beyond panic.

"What is gone?" he exclaimed, resisting the urge to shake the angel "What are you talking about!".

Finally Castiel met Sam's glare and answered in a little broken voice "A piece of his soul is vanished".

Sam remained silent, assessing the situation, searching his mind for information on what the angel was on about. He found nothing.

"I don't understand" he finally admitted.

Castiel glared at him, as if Sam didn't understand how serious the situation actually was; he was right, Sam didn't.

"Souls are very valuable" the angel finally explained through gritted teeth "They are powerful. In human terms, we may say that each of them can generate more energy than a nuclear reactor. They are also what makes a human being truly human: a soulless individual would perpetrate the most atrocious deeds without remorse...".

"Wait" Sam interrupted him "You can have soulless people? I thought that without a soul you were bound to die!".

Castiel shook his head: "Even without a soul survival is still manageable but the price to pay is very high. No soul means no conscience; no ethics; no sense of what's right and what's not; no feelings. It's no life. It's just... existence".

Sam shivered with horror, silently pleading to never meet such a monster.

"Anyway" the angel went on "the point here is that a person lives with a soul, exists without a soul but is unable to do any of those things if the soul is broken".

Sam looked at him, unable to understand.

"Souls must remain intact!" Castiel snapped "They are completely inside an individual or they are not. They can't be partly here and partly somewhere else! If that happens, the body remains stuck half-way, it can't live nor can it die!".

Comprehension downed on Sam: he preferred it didn't.

"You mean... you mean Dean is...".

Castiel sighed.

"Dean won't wake up" he whispered sadly "Not until his soul is complete again. He will just lay there, sleeping. You would call it coma, I think".

Sam didn't believe him, he couldn't. The angel was lying, he had to. He wanted to use Dean for his plan and was trying to remove Sam from the scene. Ah, no doubt he was waiting for Sam to heart-brokenly leave in search of some piece of soul to wake up Dean and send him off to another ridiculous mission. Sam wouldn't allow that. _Couldn't_ allow that. His brother was too important. And tough. Dean was so very tough, _too_ tough to be lying in some hospital bed with a piece of his soul missing. He wouldn't, so he wasn't. The angel _was _lying and...

And then Sam looked into Castiel's eyes and saw the same panic, the same incredulity, the same pain he was experiencing and he understood that no, the angel wasn't lying.

"But... but... _how_...".

"It was ripped" Castiel answered "There's no other explanation. Someone very powerful must have taken it".

Sam made a sound akin to a sob but he immediately drowned it in a growl. There was no time to despair: Dean wouldn't let him. What he needed to do now was track down the bastard who hurt his brother and make him pay.

* * *

><p>Alistair sat up on the little bed and idly started to scan the room: his gaze swept the blue-coloured walls, lingered briefly on the pile of stuffed animals in a corner and flinched slightly at the sight of a large, cheerful angel planted on the bedside table. A flick of his wrist and the angel's head was gone.<p>

Taken this little satisfaction, Alistair started to assess the situation: he was no fool and knew perfectly well that by now he should be ashes, not in the body of some snotty kid on this bloody ice land. Now the question was: why wasn't he dead? He should be after his last encounter with Sam Winchester. Sam bloody Winchester. He _hated_ that loser, he hated him just as much as he liked...

Oh. _Oh._ He'd almost forgot...

He started to look around again, searching for the precious result of his little theft but it was nowhere in sight. Come on, he couldn't have simply _lost_ it!

A low chuckle caught his attention and made him look up: there, leaning casually on the closed door , was Uriel. The dark angel wasn't looking at him but at the small ball he was playing with. The small, beautifully _shining_ little ball he was _playing _with, like he didn't know that Alistair was the only one allowed to play with it!

Uriel tossed the ball in the air and caught it one last time before he met the seething demon's gaze.

He smiled.

"Looking for this?".

**Please, let me know what you think of it! Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm really sorry this took so long, but i experienced an awful writer-block! Hope it's gone now! Anyway, here it is:**

"Looking for this?".

Alistair's new green eyes focused on the shining blue globe clutched by the angel's _undeserving_ hand. Dean's pretty little soul handled by an unworthy creature who couldn't even come close to understand its value.

"Give him back", he said quietly, not looking away from Dean's blinding light.

Uriel smirked: "I don't think so".

He was slammed against the wall with so much force that he remained stunned for a moment. His hand went slack too, releasing the small bright bead.

It bounced on the floor, once, twice... A hand closed around it, warm, loving fingers rubbing soothingly on its surface.

Uriel sat up with a grunt and blinked several times in order to clear his head. When he finally looked up, he wished he hadn't.

Alistair, innocent sweet-looking Alistair with bright green eyes and soft auburn locks, was glazing hungrily at Dean's lovely fragmented soul; closing hi eyes, he brought it to his cheek and started to purr, enjoying the warm caress. He sighed.

Opening his eyes again, he fixed them on the angel and smiled sweetly.

"Now" he murmured while a very pointed pencil flew in his open palm "Care to give me a good reason _not_ to play with your guts?".

Uriel looked at the pencil: it was a deep red, with a fluffy parrot perched on the top. Somehow, it was the most menacing weapon he'd ever seen.

"Try something and you'll have the whole garrison on you within seconds" the angel hissed, desperately denying that the knot he felt around his stomach was fear.

Alistair seemed to ponder this; once again, he grinned.

"Maybe. But when they manage to get here, you'll be already dead and me and Dean far away".

The pencil inched a little closer...

"Wait!" Uriel exclaimed, scrambling to is feet "Just hear me out before you do anything! I've come here with a proposition".

"Oh?" Alistair stopped, a curious expression painted on his face "Well, you're really not my type and I'm afraid that Dean's already taken, so don't you try anything with him or else...".

The angel simply stared at him, fear forgotten for the moment: "Do you demons actually think you're funny?" he asked.

Alistair smiled, baring pointed little teeth: "I was dead serious".

Sensing that his time was almost up, Uriel hurried to continue.

"Listen, I know you're not interested in this war, are you? Why did you really come up here? It wasn't just for the Seals, right?".

Alistair didn't answer, he just threw a fleeting glance to the soul still pressed to his cheek. It was all Uriel needed to know.

"So I thought" the angel smiled "Now, if I could get you and your beloved student a free ticket back to Hell in exchange for a small favour what would you say?".

"Uhm", Alistair raised a hand to his chin and started to massage it pensively, as to better consider Uriel's question. "Wait! I know!" he said at last, smiling widely and snapping his fingers with glee "What I would say is that I don't need your help because I can provide it by my-self! And then I would kill you painfully! Is that correct?".

"Wrong answer" Uriel stated "You can't go back right now, the angels would catch you. They are patrolling all entrances to the Infernal Realm".

The demon's eyes widened in mock surprise: "Oh my goodness! Why?".

Uriel eyeballed him, knowing that the fiend knew the answer but wanted to gloat.

"Well, mostly because some demon managed to incapacitate Heaven's best weapon to a point where even our angelic powers can nothing. The only way to make the ape useful again is to pierce his soul together but, unfortunately, the demon in possession of the missing piece vanished under mysterious circumstances...".

Alistair, who listened to him attentively with the head cocked to one side, smirked a little before focusing on the pearl of light still nested against his cheek. The stare that he fixed on it held such hunger, such desire to dominate, to control, to _posses_ that Uriel felt an involuntary pang of sympathy thinking of what the human went through in Hell.

"So it was you who saved me and sent me here, I gather?" Alistair asked quietly, caressing Dean's soul with a careful finger.

It was Uriel's time to smirk knowingly.

"If I have to be honest, it wasn't my intention initially, but after I saw your brilliant move I understood that I couldn't let you be killed by an idiotic hairless ape like Sam Winchester".

Alistair nodded distractedly: "I appreciate that" he whispered "I really do...".

Seeing the new, contemplative mood the Torturer had fallen into, the angel decided to test his luck.

"Are you going to hear me out, then?".

Hell's Inquisitor hummed softly, removing the soul from his cheek and cradling it in his open palms; with great care he clasped both hands together, enveloping Dean in a warm cocoon, and brought them to rest against his heart, imitating a postcard angel.

He sighed and closed his eyes; when he opened them again, they were white and soulless.

"Sssurprise me!".

**What do you think? Please, let me know! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! Here we go again, later than I would have liked but a bit earlier than I expected if I have to be sincere (what with university, life etc.).**

**Hope you'll like it!  
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An hour later, Uriel was gone and the house was silent again. Alistair was lying in his small bed, snuggling the comforter.

"Damn this bloody wasteland and its bloody coolness!" he thought angrily.

After he'd wrapped his body in a warm cocoon, he relaxed, closed his eyes and smiled wickedly. He had to admit that the stupid angel had come up with a rather ingenious plan indeed...

With a content sigh, he decided that that he'd earned him-self a good rest after so many years of hard work and slipped in a deep slumber. Outside, the sky was starting to lighten.

Later that morning, when Mrs. Daimon suddenly screamed and her husband darted excitedly out of the house to call their midwife, Alistair momentarily stirred, smiled softly and went back to sleep.

* * *

><p>Sam was out of his mind with worry.<p>

Castiel was repeating once again that the entire garrison had been summoned to find Dean's torn soul. All entrances to Hell were blocked and patrolled by angels so nobody could get in (but what if Dean's problem is actually how to get _out_?).

Other angels were searching the whole planet in the hope of finding him (it's a bloody _planet_, Cas, and you're looking for something the size of a _bead_!).

Long story short, everything that could be done was already being done so all Sam could do was relax and calm down. Seriously Sam, please calm down. Yes, Sam, I understand but if you could put me down and just...

"I'M NOT GOING TO CALM DOWN!".

Sam's furious scream was heard in all the compound and many angels lifted their eyes from what they were doing to stare blankly at him; Castiel threw them a warning glance and they all looked hurriedly away.

"I'm not going to calm down, Castiel" the younger Winchester repeated in a calmer tone after a few seconds "I understand that you're doing all the possible and maybe also the impossible, but I can't relax and get comfortable while my brother lies in a bed with half of his soul missing!".

Castiel seemed lost in deep thought.

"Three quarters" he said at last.

"What?" Sam asked, momentarily taken aback.

"Dean's missing three quarters of his soul" Castiel said matter-of- factly "Who did the job wanted to be sure that Dean would never wake up".

Sam stared incredulously at the angel: "Is this supposed to make me feel better?".

"No, but I prefer to be accurate".

Sam stormed out of the room, muttering something about bloody angels and holy oil.

Castiel sighed. He understood what the younger Winchester was going through, he really did, but he couldn't afford to lose his focus or Dean would be lost as well.

Sighing at the unfairness of this, he passed the line of desks where angels were frenziedly working on maps and sigils trying in vain to locate _the_ Vessel. The more time it passed, Castiel mused, the more the compound looked like the operative base of some secret group... He immediately stopped this train of thoughts: angels shouldn't think like humans, Zachariah would say.

Zachariah. When he found out what had happened to Dean, he was out of him-self with rage. It was understandable, after all without Dean the Plan couldn't take place.

Right. The Plan. Another issue he had a problem with. His Superior had already explained to him many times that it was all for the Greater Good, that everything would be okay, that in the end everybody would be grateful, but... But he'd grown attached to Dean. To Sam. To humanity. And now he felt like he was betraying them, all of them. He shouldn't feel like this, it surely wasn't healthy.

He reached a white door, stopped in front of it and knocked; he waited a few seconds and then he slipped inside. He found him-self in a very large, very white room, illuminated by an eerily white light that seemed to permeate everything; the only furniture was a queen size bed whit cream sheets.

Dean was lying in it, sleeping peacefully. Zachariah stood beside the bed, looking down at the young man with an unreadable expression. Castiel remained close to the door, assuming a more formal stance.

When Cas reported the situation, his Superior, along with summoning the whole garrison in the hope to solve the situation, also arranged for Dean's bod... for Dean to be transferred to the compound (their current operative basis).

"Any news?" Zachariah asked after a while.

Castiel had to stop the sigh that almost instantly formed inside his throat: "Unfortunately not" he answered tiredly "We are still patrolling all possible accesses to Hell but we obtained nothing so far".

"I'm not surprised" Zachariah retorted, his eyes never leaving Dean's face "Whoever came up with something like this wouldn't be so stupid to try to walk into Hell knowing that we are watching".

"We are also searching the planet with the help of sigils...".

"There's no use and you know it" his Superior snapped, not showing real anger, just annoyance that Castiel was deluding him-self "There's no sigil that can locate an incomplete soul and we can't exactly search every single demon on Earth. Besides, they could easily hide it. No, our only consolation at this point is that half souls can't be destroyed, only disguised".

Cas didn't know what to say.

"Well... maybe hunters...".

Zachariah sneered at that and arched his eyebrows as to say "Are you serious?".

"Sam..."

"Is with Ruby right now".

The older angel was still studying Dean's peaceful features, but a strange light was now shining in his eyes. He slowly raised a hand and gently carded it in the young man's spiky hair.

"Such a pity" he murmured.

Castiel paid no attention to any of this, too shocked from what he'd just heard.

"Sam... with Ruby?" he whispered.

Zachariah finally brought up his gaze and looked at the other angel (he also retreated his hand, even if with a little reluctance).

"Oh yes!" he exclaimed brightly "You see, our good boy is convinced that killing Lilith will magically heal his brother and so he went to his favourite demon for sustenance. I'm afraid we can't have that".

"We can't?" Castiel asked stupidly, not really listening.

Zachariah huffed in exasperation.

"Of course not you idiot" he retorted, and again not real anger could be felt, just that disquieting brightness "When Lilith finds out that we have lost our best weapon, and you can be sure that she already has, she will practically beg to be killed! Lucifer will be freed, the Apocalypse will start and we'll have means of defence. It's her perfect occasion, she's not going to spoil it".

Castiel listened with growing horror. He'd never considered Dean a mean of defence, but he realized that he was also that: angels helped to bring on Apocalypse counting on Dean's (_Michael's_) presence, but now that their insurance had gone... (And he still hated to consider Dean nothing more than a vessel, but he had to, he wanted to be a good angel!).

"What are we going to do?" he asked a little breathlessly.

Zachariah hesitated, turning really serious.

"I've never wished for it to come to this, but after deep consideration I can't see how we can avoid it".

He went to open the door.

"Come on!" he told the younger angel "Let's go and find Sam".

Castiel froze.

"What... What for?" he asked with an audible gulp.

Zachariah sighed sadly.

"I guess we'll have to... tell him the truth".

**Please, let me know what you think of this! Thank you for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi! Yes, I know, I'm horribly late again, I'm really really sorry! I hope this will make it up for all the waiting!**

Dean had absolutely no idea of what was going on.

Okay, if we want to be precise, only three quarters of Dean had no idea of what was going on, because the remaining quarter hadn't been jostled about that much but was in fact sleeping quite peacefully in the angels' compound.

Anyway, Dean remembered distinctly the burning sensation of being ripped apart and then something that was suspiciously similar to being annihilated. He remembered the rush of being spirited (ah ah) away and cold, unkind and despising hands; he remembered burning and caressing hands that appeared loving but never felt quite right...

He remembered voices, one cruel and cold, the other equally cruel but lilting, soft and so, so _insane._

He remembered laughs and once again the feeling of evaporating and the warmth, oh such an incredible warmth, and safety, and unity...

It lasted only a few hours, of course (like any other good thing in Dean's life) and now it was cold again. He wasn't scared, though, not yet, he just felt a sense of loss he was all too used to.

He kept quiet, his ears ready to pick up any possible piece of information.

"Is everything okay?" a frantic male voice was asking somewhere to his right "Is it a boy or a girl? And shouldn't there be crying? Are you sure that...".

"Calm down!" answered a female voice, polite and firm, coming from somewhere just above him " Yes everything's all right. It's a boy. He's breathing regularly and the heart's pulsing. Let's check the reflex... Yes, perfect! Congratulations, you've got an healthy, quiet little boy! Oh my, doesn't he just look like an angel?".

Dean was so confused: what were they talking about? He had the horrible feeling that he was forgetting something really important but the more he tried to focus, the more he seemed to be forgetting. He finally decided to open his eyes and have a look around.

"Oh, he's opened his eyes! My, they are such a dashing green! That's quite rare!".

He couldn't see. He couldn't see properly! Just confused forms and colours but nothing clear1 What was wrong with him?

"Can I hold him?" asked a tired, female voice and just like that Dean knew that all was well in the world because the voice represented safety and love. He couldn't explain where this feeling came from, but it was an unshakeable certainty, and when warm arms encircled him he felt completely at peace. Hadn't he already experienced something like that (and as soon as he thought of it, the memory was gone)?

"Hi handsome! How do you like the world, hmm? Oh... Honey, did we wake you up?".

Suddenly, Dean could feel a new presence in the room and knew almost immediately that it was bad news. It had a name, he was sure of it, but he had forgotten it...

"Don't worry" said a soft, soft voice (bad, bad voice, but why?) "Is it...?".

"Hey ace!" the warm male voice exclaimed ("Good work ace!" echoed another equally warm male voice in Dean's head, before it was lost forever to the advancing darkness) "Come here, we want you to meet your new baby brother!".

The presence laughed and got nearer and nearer (no, no, bad presence! Or is it...?).

"So" asked the voice that meant love and protection "Do you like him?".

"Yes" the other voice answered without hesitation "Can I hold him?".

"Er, honey, I don't know if...".

"Pleeeeaseeee!".

So childish and wrong, wrong, wrong but why? The darkness had swallowed almost everything, nothing remained but the voices in the room.

"Okay, but be very careful!".

Movement. Sudden void. Arms, holding him.

"Oh, he's simply perfect!" the bad (bad?) voice exhales.

"He is, isn't he? I'm sure you'll be a great big brother, tiger! Now, we need a name! We were so sure it' d be a girl that we didn't even think about a male name... Any ideas, champion?".

"His name's Dean".

Not a suggestion, a fact.

"Dean, eh? I kinda like it! What do you think honey?".

"Hmm... I think it suits him! Dean! Well done, darling!".

A soft, soft laugh...

Freshly named, Dean started to cry.

**So, a bit of a shock? Let me know if you liked it! Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello guys! Sorry for the interminable wait, I hope this will make up for it. It's a bit angsty, I wonder where it came from...**

**Thanks to all the people who reviewed!  
><strong>

All right, all right, you were wrong.

There, happy now? You admit it (because, unlike _someone else_, you aren't a stubborn idiot). You were wrong and the rest of the world was right: don't trust demons. Ever. Not even if they seem to be decent enough. Not even if they seem friendly. _Especially_ if they seem friendly, come to think of it. Not even if they take care of you in the worst time of your life. Be very suspicious if they are sympathetic and offer you a shoulder to cry on or if they try to cheer you up when you can't think of a good reason to stop crying. If they are also incredibly nice to you, if they help you any way they can, if they are more supportive than your own father (or brother...) could ever be, if they lead you to believe that they love you... well, you should really start considering to chop their head off because they are lying out of their teeth. Oh, they will _appear_ sincere, but appearances can be deceiving.

Take angels, for example: you hear all the wonderful stories about them and you think they are wonderful people; then you meet them and start thinking they are almost as bad as demons (you don't feel guilty, they think the same thing of you). Then a couple of things happen and you come to the conclusion that they are not so bad: anybody else would have killed you after _you _made those couple of things happen.

Yes, you went to find Ruby after the disastrous meeting with Castiel, you needed to do something, anything to stop feeling so useless. You just wanted some commiseration (she was always so good with you, she always made you feel important and appreciated) but ended up finding the answer to all your problems. Or so you thought.

Lilith was there. Lilith was on Earth to perform some ritual in some church, you don't really care for the details at this point, and she would be defenceless for a little time. It's your perfect occasion for taking revenge, once and for all.

"Am I ready?" you ask her anyway, because you are the conscientious brother, you don't rush into things. The fact that you will go anyway, ready or not, is not important.

"Yes you are" she answers, and so everything's all right.

You go, you find Lilith and she taunts you, taunts you because you are useless and once again you couldn't save your brother from getting hurt. You smirk and proceed to shut her up forever. She screams, oh _how_ she screams and it feels wonderful. You relish it for a second, preparing le coup de grâce...

And then Castiel is there, pulling you away kicking and screaming while Lilith disappears in a flash of white light, spirited away who knows where; only Ruby is still there, screaming and trying to fight off the angels who are restraining her. Castiel is talking to you but you _don't want to listen_, it was your occasion, your only occasion and they _blew it_, and they will _die for this..._

Then this guy (Zachariah) appears and start explaining everything to you. He tells you about the First Seal and how it was broken (and for a second you're almost grateful that Dean's unconscious because knowing this would kill him). He tells you about the Last Seal, the one that frees Lucifer, the one that is broken by killing Lilith. The bloody last seal is broken by the death of bloody Lilith and you almost... you almost... Finally, he tells you about Ruby, aka your abyssal stupidity because, _seriously Sam_, how could you believe that a demon could be able to love you? (And yes, seriously Sam, how could you? After all, _you_ don't love her, you were just using her, weren't you? Why shouldn't she do the same?)

It's you who push the knife into her – non existent- heart before following the angels back to their compound. You never look back.

Castiel treats you coldly on the way to Dean's bedroom. "How could you?", he seems to say, "How could you?".

And you would like to scream to him "You don't understand!". Nobody does. They always criticize you, they are always so ready to _judge_ you: they have no idea of what you've gone through. Of what you're still going through. It's not the fact that you are the one responsible for your mother death; it's not the fact that you were meant to be evil from the start (obviously); it's not the fact that you caused the death of every single woman you ever dared to love. They are part of the problem, but not _the_ problem. Oh no, _the_ problem is Dean. Dean, who's always taking care of you, who will take care of you forever no matter what you say or do because he loves you too much; Dean, who sacrificed his childhood in order to protect you and your poor excuse of a parent, who sacrificed his childhood to let _you_ have a childhood; Dean, who is always so brave and selfless like every good hero should be (the good hero you know you will never be); Dean, who _gave up his bloody life for you_ because you were killed by your own stupidity (Bobby said that t wasn't your fault, but you know better). How do you balance _that_? How. Do. You. Balance. That?

You can't. You will never be able to repay your brother for everything he did for you. Your debts will forever hunt you, you will never be free! You tried, God, you tried to repay at least a little part of that debt and you failed! What can you do? You thought (like your father...) that revenge would help but you just made things worse.

Now, Dean is in trouble again. You are all he has left, the only one who can help him (you still don't trust the angels, not completely). This time, you will not screw up. This time, you will be able to save him. _This time_, you will be the hero.

**Well, I did say it was a bit angsty... **

**Tell me what you think of it!  
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**Thanks for reading!  
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	8. Chapter 8

**Erm, hello! First of all, allow me to say that I am extremely sorry for the loooong wait, but this chapter was simply hell (no pun intended) to write.**** I wrote and rewrote it thousands of times and always ended up deeply disappointed by how it turned out. I am still unsatisfied with it, but I am posting it now before it completely poisons my existence... Anyway, I want to thank all the wonderful people who took the time to review and to encourage me. I hope you don't find this too terrible. However, if it _is_ too terrible feel free to yell at me!  
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At first Mr and Mrs Daimon had been a little worried that Alistair might not take well to his little brother. After all Ally, as they lovingly called him, was still so very young and it might be shocking or even hurtful for him to suddenly have to share his parent's attention with the baby. However, after a few days they realised that they shouldn't have worried. Alistair didn't like his younger brother. He _adored _him. He would hold him when he cried (and after a few seconds Dean would promptly calm down), watch upon him as he slept, play with him and make him laugh. It seemed that he couldn't stop caressing him, coddling him, calling him sweet names - "precious" and "baby doll" were the most frequent. Yes, life was great in the Daimon's household. At least up until Alistair had to start going to school again. _That_ was when trouble started.

Dean didn't approve of school, as he didn't approve of any activity that caused Alistair to be away from him. In order to express his displeasure, he adopted the method used by babies all over the world. He Cried. The capital letter was well deserved and it differentiate the "oh-I'm-quite-hungry-and-I-want-you-to-do-something-about-it" cry from the "Alistair-is-away-what-have-I-left-to-live-for-in-this-sad-world?" Cry. When Dean was Crying, he meant business. He would wail out almost continuously, pausing for just a few seconds in order to regain his breath, and he would stop only after Alistair had come back home. What was extraordinary was that, as his older brother took him into his arms, little Dean would suddenly calm down and, red-faced, sweaty and exhausted, peacefully go to sleep.

After a week or so of these shenanigans, the Daimons were an emotional and physical wreck.

Therefore, it was quietly decided that from now on Alistair would be home-schooled. But before Alistair could celebrate his victory, his parents decided that it was time to act. Words like "co-dependency" and "separation anxiety" were thrown around and, after many whispered discussions, the Daimons agreed to Get Help.

A therapist was put on the case. She took a whole afternoon to carefully observe the interactions between the two brothers and their parents and then handed back her report. And _that_ was when two terrible words were brought to the light: "unhealthy relationship". In answer to the Daimons' disbelief, the therapist calmly explained that while it was quite common for brothers to use pet names for each other, "precious", "baby doll" and "darling" weren't exactly common; it was also unnatural for Dean to be so distraught about his brother's absence and instead to be perfectly fine when separated from his mother and father; and, while it was a very good thing that Alistair had taken so well to his baby brother, shouldn't he spend more time with people of his age? Because Alistair _did_ have friends, didn't he...?

The therapist was found dead under mysterious circumstances two days after the visit to the Daimons, but unfortunately the damage was already done. Alistair was relentlessly pushed out of home under injunction to meet other kids and make new friends. Children were invited over almost every day and things were improving: Dean reacted positively to having new people around him and was now able to be separated from his older brother for hours without a fuss.

Alistair was furious. How dare those stupid little monkeys try to keep him and Dean apart?!

But mostly he was furious at him-self. He really should have known better! Had he kept his distance, had he tried to feign disinterest or even mild annoyance, had he behaved like a _normal_ older brother... But he really couldn't now, could he? Because to see Dean like this, so small, so sweet, so helpless, so dependent, so in desperate need of his care and protection... it was intoxicating. Alistair couldn't have stopped even if he'd wanted to. And _he didn't want to_! Dean was so pretty like that, small enough to fit perfectly in his arms, all big green eyes, soft blond hair and even softer skin. It was unfair, it really was, how could Alistair stand a chance against that?

Nevertheless, if he wanted to stay under the angels' radar he had to maintain his anonymity. He was lucky the stunt he was forced to pull on the therapist had gone unnoticed (stupid stupid angels) but he couldn't risk it a second time. For both his and Dean's sake. So he played the game: he went out with the bloody snotty kids, resisted the urge to gut them, played with the bloody puppies, resisted the urge to set fire to them, invited the bloody snotty kids to "his" house, resisted the urge to make it explode with the bloody snotty kids and his darling parents still inside...

The only thing he wasn't able to forgave, strangely enough, were the pet names. It started out as a joke – back Down There Dean had almost clawed his eyes out when he had called him "honey", it'd been exhilarating – but then Alistair simply couldn't stop. The pet names just flew out of his mouth unfiltered from his brain because, and the demon almost choked when the revelation hit him, they felt right. Or, better yet, they felt right with Dean's new condition. In Hell, Dean was simply Dean (or "that blasted, stubborn bastard" on a particularly bad day) because that was his essence. "Honey" was a joke because it couldn't be more far from reality: the hardened, deadly, stubborn hunter could never be a "honey", as he could never be a "darling", a "sweetheart" or a "doll". Alistair knew him too well to be fooled by the soft appearances.

But now, _now_, with the slate wiped clean, with all that sufferings and stubbornest completely gone, he could be a "darling". Heaven, he _was_ a "darling". And a "sweetheart". But most of all, he was a "baby doll". Oh, of all the pet names that was his favourite. "Baby doll". His sweet, sweet baby doll, kept safe in his little doll-house to be played with at his discretion forever and ever. Because he wanted that to last forever, he thought with pleased surprise. He should be bored by Dean's lack of fierceness; he adored to see him so putty in his hands. He should mourn the loss of his greatest apprentice; he revelled in the potential of the babe. He should regret no longer being the feared Master; he was all too content to be a loved and worshipped God. The more he thought about this, the more he was convinced that going back to the way things were before would be impossible. He'd have to find a new solution once back at Home.

For the time being, life was really great for Alistair, former Great Executioner of Hell. Of course, _that_ was when Uriel decided to appear in his room with appalling news and a ridiculous demand.

"Sam Winchester knows the truth" the angel panted "The Angels got Lilith, they imprisoned her! She can't unfasten the last Seal and now the situation is blocked! We need Dean!".

Simply unacceptable.

**Sooo, if your thoughts are "What, I waited months for _this_?" do tell me. I always appreciate constructive criticism! Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello! I'm very sorry for making you wait this long for an update, but good news: we are almost finished, this is the final chapter of the story and an epilogue will follow soon (I'm almost done writing it). I hope you like it!**

"We need Dean!".

Alistair's boyish face remained completely blank. Uriel wondered whether that was a good thing or not.

"Lilith has been captured by the Angels", Uriel repeated, trying to coax a reaction out of the former Grand Torturer. He didn't have much luck.

"Listen", he tried again with more urgency, "I don't think you completely understand the gravity of the situation...".

"Oh but I do", the demon replied in a contemplative voice, "The angels captured Lilith to ensure that she isn't killed, thus freeing Lucifer and starting the Apocalypse. Why would they do that? Obvious. Having lost Dean they are unable to guarantee Michael's intervention in the fight. Can they use a surrogate vessel? Oh dear no, they can't, because Dean hasn't refused to accept the Archangel inside his body, he doesn't even know that that was required of him since he's blocked in a state of coma. So with Michael's Sword in the hands of the devils and Lilith at the mercy of the angels, the Apocalypse is at a stalemate".

Uriel blinked. Apparently, the fiend was a lot smarter than he'd previously given him credit for.

"Well, I'm glad you understand the situation".

Alistair simply nodded.

Neither of them said anything for a while, each of them waiting for the other to make a move.

"Well?", Uriel said testily, breaking the silence.

"Well what?".

Uriel was starting to lose his patience.

"Well hand the little monkey over!", the angel snapped, "If we don't give the stupid brat to my people, we won't be able to start the Apocalypse! We need him!".

"Yes, I can see that you do", Alistair answered vaguely.

Uriel wondered if the "you" hinted at a change of perspective. He decided it didn't.

"Then come on, I don't have all night! Give me the monkey!".

Alistair pouted.

"Can't you break Lilith out instead?".

"You think I didn't try? Nobody can gain access to her cell except for the Archangels, I couldn't even get close! Now. Give. Me. The. Monkey!".

Alistair sighed, resigned. He studied his nails for a few seconds and, just when Uriel was getting ready to march into the house, he smiled.

"I think I have an alternative solution".

Alistair flexed his fingers.

Uriel blinked.

Everything went black.

* * *

><p>Castiel was the first to arrive. Oh, that terrible cry had been heard all the way to Heaven, as was every cry let out by a dying Angel, but Castiel had flown faster than the rest of the Garrison because he'd recognised that voice. Uriel's voice.<p>

He found him in an old, anonymous-looking warehouse. He lied on the concrete floor, spread-eagled, ashen wings painted under his corpse. He'd been slaughtered. There were no other words for it. His body was almost unrecognisable, even the imprint of his wings was mangled. He and Uriel had been close. They had fought together, they were friends. Seeing him in that state made Castiel wish he could cry. He knelt beside the corpse of one of his best friends for a long time, feeling useless.

Why couldn't I save you? - .

Zachariah was on of the last to arrive accompanied, strangely enough, by Sam Winchester. He studied the body with a blank face and then slowly shook his head.

"This is the work of a demon", he stated, "It obviously can't be Lilith's doing, so we must find the culprit and stop him. Or her". Sam nodded grimly.

Castiel vaguely thought that the younger Winchester had been around a lot as of lately. Probably a guilty conscience, muttered a dark part of his mind. He silenced it, but probably not fast enough.

"We should remove the body", a young angel quietly said.

Zachariah nodded.

Castiel helped his sister to pick up his fallen brother, but almost let the body fall when Sam gasped rather loudly. The human was staring open-mouthed at something on the floor and his face radiated incredulity. Even Zachariah froze.

Castiel and the young angel exchanged a glance and carefully put down the corpse again. They turned and looked down. On the floor, in the space between Uriel's ashen wings, was a seal, crudely painted in blood. Azazel's seal.

"It's impossible!", Sam exclaimed, "We killed him! It can't be him!".

Zachariah shook his head: "Who would use his seal then?".

Sam thought about it for some time.

"Meg?".

Zachariah shook his head again.

"Meg doesn't have the power to kill an angel as powerful as Uriel. Azazel on the other hand...".

Sam stood up.

"I want to help you!".

Zachariah stared at him.

"I beg your pardon?".

"I want to help you! Azazel is my family's responsibility. I won't let all my father and brother's hard work be for nothing! If that monster is still alive, I need to be there to find him!".

_Is that so?_-, the dark voice inside Castiel's head muttered, - _And where were you when your brother needed you? Where were you when your father needed you? Wasn't it you who left for Stamford and never answered Dean's phone-calls?-._

_He deserved a normal life-, _pleaded Castiel's conscience – _He deserved to have a choice_-.

_But-_, the voice rebuked, - _Is it me or Sam Winchester isn't big on making the right choices?_-.

Castiel didn't know what to say to that.

Zachariah smiled.

"Welcome on board, kid!".

* * *

><p>Alistair woke up in a merry mood. Uriel was dead, the angels were stuck and with any luck little Sammy Winchester had heard about the seal and gone on a stupid wild-goose chase. Alistair didn't feel any guilt for using his dead comrade's official seal. He was sure the old boy would have appreciated the irony.<p>

He quietly slipped out of his bed and crept into the light pink (but the Daimons were working on that, they'd bought the light blue paint and everything) nursery. He grabbed the bars of the crib and hauled him-self up: Dean, already awake, looked up at him and smiled sunnily. The former Grand Executioner, aka Grand Torturer, aka Picasso with a razor smiled back.

All was well in the world.

**Reviews are very much appreciated! I will post the epilogue soon. Thank you for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**So here we are: this is the end. I really enjoyed writing this fic and I hope you had as much fun reading it! Thanks to all those who took time to reviewed and to those who will review!**

**Epilogue**

In the end, Sam knew he had no other choice. He needed to find his brother and to save him from the demons, so it was only logical to join the angels. When Zachariah asked him if he was ready to obey Heaven's orders and to become a true Warrior of God, Sam didn't even hesitate. He said yes. Yes. Anything for Dean. Yes. Yes. _Yes_.

* * *

><p>In the end, Castiel refused to be there for Sam's swearing in and contented him-self to observe from far away. Dark thoughts whispered inside his mind.<p>

Here he is, this flawed human, a Warrior of God. He tasted demonic blood, slurping it like an addict, he almost freed Lucifer from his cage thanks to his stupidity but we are expected to salute him as a brother. If _I _ were God, I would never accept the likes of Sam Winchester in my flock. If _I _were God, I would never allow this kind of things to happen. If _I _were God...-.

The voices went on and on and on. Castiel didn't bother to silence them.

* * *

><p>In the end, the Daimons were the proudest parents in the world. Alistair, their elder, had informed them that he was going to be a surgeon when he grew up and, seeing how the child's tutor was in awe of his intelligence, the Daimons had no doubt that he would make it.<p>

Sweet little Dean, would be celebrating his first birthday in a few weeks ("My, time does fly!), was growing up to be a handsome and intelligent boy and, whatever he put his mind to do, nobody doubted that he would excel at it.

"Oh, he's going to be my assistant! We'll work together and it'll be perfect!", Alistair told his parents and the Daimons cooed at their beautiful sons.

* * *

><p>In the end, Alistair didn't even miss Hell anymore. Sure, his small body limited him and on Earth he couldn't have as much fun as he had in Hell but, hey, home is where the heart is, right?<p>

He had Dean, therefore he was content. They had a bright future together to look forward to. They were just getting started...

**Thank you for reading!**


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